Tales from the Tunnels
by IzzyK97
Summary: [Bourbon spends almost all of his time wandering around the Metro; these are some of the things that happened. Rated T for language.]
1. Accidental Parenthood

[This turned out fluffy too, and I swear on my /life/ it wasnt meant to! It was meant to be funny and awkward WHERE DID I GO WRONG? Whatever, it was fun to write~]

Ahh, Venice. When was the last time he'd been here? A few years ago, it must have been. Maybe... 5 years? Yeah, that sounded about right. Bourbon couldn't actually remember much of his last visit to the bandit-ridden station. He'd spent most of his time either shitfaced drunk, higher than a kite, or loitering in the brothel. Sometimes all at the same time! Good times indeed, until he went a little too far with one of the whores. She hadn't complained, (shit, she even told him to "come back soon"), but the guy who ran the place... Well, he'd been less pleased. Hopefully, Bourbon thought, that guy's gone now. Dead, kicked out, whatever. As long as he wasn't around. He wasn't in the mood for a fight today.

Strolling along the walkways, Bourbon paused to buy a rat skewer from a stall. He chomped down on it with a contented hum; one of the best things about Venice was definitely the barbequed rats! He continued wandering until he found a quiet spot behind a shack, then settled down to enjoy his meal. Hmm... what to do next... He could go to the shooting range and try and win back some of the bullets he'd lost at the last station. Or maybe the brothel... Or he could stay here and take a nap. He'd just lost himself in his thoughts when a shrill shout of "YOU!" snapped him back to reality.

Scrambling to his feet and dropping the food in his panic (damn it all, what a waste, he thought), Bourbon found himself face to face with an angry looking woman. A scarily familiar angry looking woman. "Wha-... Z-Zoya..? Is that you?" He stammered.  
"Yes, it's me!" Zoya snapped back, shooting Bourbon a glare that honestly made him fear for his life. "Where have you BEEN for the past five years? Do you have ANY IDEA how HARD it's been to do this on my own? Do you even care? Did you EVER care?!"  
"Zoyushka-"  
"Don't call me that!"  
"Okay, okay!" Bourbon raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and gulped. "Sorry, Zoyush- uh, Zoya. I... I didn't think it would be safe to come back, what with how mad your boss was after we... you know... Wait, do /what/ on your own?" Zoya sighed heavily, rolling her eyes and sweeping her light hair away from her face with one hand.  
"Bring up Mikhail, of course." She turned slightly and called over her shoulder, "Mishka, baby, come here for second!"

The appearance of the young child that came around the corner froze Bourbon to his core. Blue eyes identical to his stared curiously up at him, set in a pale face fringed by soft, dark brown hair. Oh no. No, this was all some weird dream. Maybe that rat skewer wasn't as fresh as he'd thought. But no matter how much he willed it, this was no dream. The child stopped beside Zoya, still staring, and said "Yes, mama?". Zoya knelt down beside her son and pointed at Bourbon. "Mishka, do you know who this is? This man is your papa."  
Bourbon's heart sank further and further as the kid toddled up to him and whispered "Papa?" with an innocent kind of hopefullness. Stunned into silence, all he could do was open and close his mouth silently, flicking his gaze to Zoya with a mildly panicked expression. Zoya glared back, brows furrowed, a look that clearly said 'don't you /dare/ screw this up'.

With an mental plea to a god he didn't even believe in, Bourbon crouched down to the child's level and replied "... Yeah. Yeah, I am." The effect was instant; Mikhail's face lit up and he threw his little arms around Bourbon's neck, clinging on and chanting happily "Papa, Papa!". Zoya breathed a sigh of relief, shaking her head as Bourbon cautiously hugged the kid. His /son/. Shit, that was a scary thought. He hadn't been responsible for someone in a long time, not since... well... ever, really. The people he tended to hang around with could all look after themselves, but this... Crap, he wasn't father material! How was he supposed to know what to do? There was no way in hell he'd be any good at... this...

Bourbon emerged from his internal debate to discover that Mikhail had fallen asleep leaning on him. Looking up to where Zoya was standing, he whispered "What do I do?"  
"Pick him up." She replied quietly. "And follow me." He did as he was told, scooping Mikhail up as carefully as possible and following Zoya out of the alley. The station had, thankfully, quietened down somewhat, only a few people wandering here and there. Neither of them spoke as they crossed a bridge and headed down a side-street, Mikhail still sleeping with face pressed to Bourbon's jacket. They stayed silent until he was safely in bed, and the two of them were stood by the edge of the canal. "So..." Zoya began. "I guess you'll be leaving now, like you always do."  
"I have to."  
"Do you? Do you really? You could stay. Here. With Mishka and I."

Bourbon turned to her with a small, sad smile. "No, I couldn't. I don't know what to do, Zoya, I'm... I'm not ready to stop yet." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a handful of Military-Grade clips, holding them out. "Take these. I'm not trying to pay you off!" He added before Zoya could complain. "I guess this is... an apology. For not coming back until now." She took the bullets, putting them into her own pocket and looking back to Bourbon.  
"This doesn't let you off the hook, you know."  
"I know, I know. Take care of Mikhail, okay?"  
"I will. Well... goodbye, then."  
"Goodbye..." Bourbon turned away from her, intent on not dragging this moment out, but unable to resist grinning over his shoulder and adding "Zoyushka." He ducked around the corner, a final snapped insult ringing in his ears.

He left Venice through the warehouse, putting on his gasmask at the bottom of the ladder before climbing up to the surface. As he picked his way warily across the swamp, Bourbon couldn't help thinking about Zoya and Mikhail, and wondering what might have happened if he'd stayed with them.

[Alternate Ending]:

"So..." Zoya began. "I guess you'll be leaving now, like you always do."  
"I have to."  
"Do you? Do you really? You could stay. Here. With Mishka and I."

Bourbon paused. Could he really just... stay? True, he'd been thinking about his own mortality more often than usual lately; almost dying can do that to you. It had become clear, that day in Dry Station, that his seemingly infinite luck was running out. How many more times could he escape death like that? How long would it be before the people he owed money to finally had enough of his bargaining and simply shot him? And what would he leave behind? A bunch of angry people, and a kid without a father. "Bourbon...?" Blinking, he realised he'd been staring into space, Zoya watching him, waiting for an answer. He nodded. "Okay."  
"Okay? Okay what? Okay, you're leaving now?"  
"No. Okay, I'll stay here." He turned to her, grinning. "I'll stay here with you and Mikhail. If you'll have me, I mean." Now it was Zoya's turn to nod, a disbelieving smile spreading across her face. "You mean it?" She asked.  
"I mean it, Zoyushka." Bourbon replied, reaching out slowly and taking her hand. "It was time for me to stop anyway."

[Goodbye friends, I am gone. Papa-Bourbon is what I live for (or, as Mikhail calls him for years, Papa-Bonbon). There may be more of this - it's too cute to leave alone.]


	2. Library Visit

In which Bourbon goes to the library, gets fucked over by the local wildlife, and exits via a window. Dedicated to stalkervolk, for OC creation of epic proportions and for putting up with my Skype-crap.

In all his years wandering the Metro and the surface, Bourbon had never been to the Great Library. Sure he'd thought about; when he was younger he used to beg Stalkers to tell him their stories of the monstorous creatures that roamed between the shelves, and he'd dreamed of one day going up to the huge wooden doors, slipping inside to browse the many treasures of the vast halls, but he'd never actually gone there and done it. Today, though, that would all change.

So far, it had all gone well. Barely any interference from Watchmen, only one Demon sighting ("Fuck off, you bitch." Bourbon had hissed as he'd watched the creature circle his hiding spot a few times before giving up), and it hadn't taken as long as he'd expected to get here. Now, as he stared up at the building, Bourbon was struck with an unexpected sense of foreboding. The harsh stone lines of the structure cast an intimidating shadow across the ground, its multiple levels looming over him in an almost threatening fashion, like a dormant god awaiting its next human sacrifice...

Wait, what?

"Shit, man, pull yourself together." Bourbon muttered to himself, shaking his head to clear it. "It's just a building. A huge, dangerous building, yeah. But still just a building." With a final head-shake, he climbed the stone steps and approached the door. It was just as colossal, patterns carved into the wood worn by weather and time. Bourbon reached out to push the it open...

And a flash of light blinded him for a second, before clearing to reveal a very different place. He spun around in shock, staring at the changed world around him. The sun was shining, the sky was a bright clear blue, and the air was filled with the songs of birds. God, birds. He hadn't heard them in a long time. He closed his eyes and let the noises wash over him, content to stand there forever, just listening to sounds he missed so much...

"Little brother!" A girls voice rang out behind him. He ignored it.

"Kolya?" A man this time. Still Bourbon ignored it, despite a nagging thought in the back of his mind: why did those people seem so... important?

"Come on, Nikolaj! Why are you just standing there?" That name... That was his name... Turning back to the Library, Bourbon found the huge doors to be open. A man and a girl stood a little way away, beckoning to him, calling to him. His father and sister. Alive. In an instant Bourbon was a child again. He began to run, crying out for them at the top of his voice, begging them to wait for him just a little longer... But the closer he got, the darker the world seemed to get. The bright colours bled like paint in the rain, draining away and fading into nothing. By the time Bourbon reached where his family had been standing, they too had disappeared; he was alone in the cold, dead building once more.

It took all his willpower not to simply lay down on the stone floor and give up. He swore at himself angrily, once more spitting "Pull. Yourself. Together." before steeling his nerves and heading forward, deeper into the Library. The first hallway led into a staircase, cast in the same grey stone as everything else, and then into a large room. Bourbon looked around in amazement; sure the place was crumbling a little around the edges, but it was largely intact. The bombs must've missed this place, he thought, stepping over to a desk and opening one of the drawers. Empty. He tried another one, and another, and another. All empty. It was the same in the next room, too. Every desk, every bookshelf, every box stripped clean. Of course they were. This close to the entrance, everything of value would already have been picked up by Stalkers.

Bourbon climbed the stairs into the next room. This one was bigger, but cut into sections by multiple dividing walls. A piano stood against the wall and he went over to it, pressing a few keys experimentally and smiling at the sounds, still so clear after so long. And then he heard something. Just a small noise, like a foot scuffing against the floor. Straining his ears, he picked out more sounds, a voice this time, getting louder. He ducked behind one of the dividing walls just as the doors at the far end of the room swung open to reveal... a single Stalker, singing cheerfully to himself. Hardly daring to breathe in case his gasmask made too much noise, Bourbon watched as the Stalker walked across the room, still singing as though he wasn't in one of the most dangerous places possible. Bloodstains splattered the stranger's clothes; clearly he'd been in a fight. A fight with a Librarian, maybe? Bourbon considered for a moment asking the Stalker for some advice, or some company, but hewasn't quick enough. Adjusting the pack strapped to his back, the Stalker headed to a window in a corner, and seemed to just... jump out of it. A closer look revealed a ladder bolted to the outer wall, and Bourbon continued watching the Stalker until he disappeared down a manhole. "Must lead to Polis..." he muttered. "Thanks for the tip, stranger."

Now he paused. If the Stalker had just been through the Library, he would've stirred up the occupants, including the Librarians. Thinking back to the old stories ("Don't antagonise a Librarian. It may be the last thing you ever do on this godforsaken rock."), the prospect of going further into a maze full of angry beasts was starting to look less and less inviting, no matter what treasures were hidden there. Perhaps he should just leave. Come back another day.

... No. Bourbon shook his head furiously. He'd come this far, no way in HELL was he backing out now! Not until he had something to show for it. A souvenier of some kind, to prove to himself and others that he'd been here. So that was the task: find a souvenier and leave, preferably without pissing off the local wildlife.

The next room he came to was massive, made to seem bigger by the gaping hole in the ceiling. What looked like half a tree was poking through, the leaves casting odd-patterned shadows over the enormous pile of assorted stuff in the middle of the floor. Spotting a doorway on the other side, Bourbon began to make his way over, only to yelp and throw himself backwards as a Demon swooped in through the ceiling hole. "Fucking bitch!" He yelled, sticking as close to the wall as possible. A lot of pissed-off yelling and one mad dash past a row of windows later, Bourbon stood panting for breath in a smaller hallway. Just in time to get belted across the back of the head by a... a... vine-thing? "What the shit even are you?" He muttered, backing away from the swinging tendril in favour of a flight of stairs leading down.

The air turned thick with the smell of damp paper and mildew. Bourbon could smell it even through his mask, so he quickly changed the filter while he looked for somewhere to go. A door leading right was the only one not blocked off or boarded up, so that's where he headed, until the windows lining the opposite wall caught his attention. Despite going down, the floor he was on was still a good few metres above the ground. The lack of glass in these windows was a little disconcerting. He really didn't fancy falling out of these and braining himself on the ground, maybe he should get back and move on-... Was that growling? Bourbon turned around, and his blood ran cold. A Librarian. All the stories in the world couldn't have prepared him for this. The thick-packed muscle, the gorilla-like stance, those enormous claws... and the piercing yellow gaze that fixed him to the spot. The Librarian growled, a low gutteral rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air, and Bourbon whimpered quietly. The old instructions echoed in his head: "Just stare into it's eyes. Don't blink, don't look away, and whatever you do, DO NOT TURN YOUR BACK." So he didn't. Man and beast stood there, eyes locked, a staring competition where losing meant losing your life.

The creature thumped its knuckles on the floor and Bourbon jumped, unable to contain the instinctive flinch. Big mistake. He could've sworn the Librarian's eyes widened in triumph as it took a lurching step forward, back legs coiling like a pair of springs, ready to jump on him and rip him to shreds. Bourbon flung his arms in front of his face, expecting any moment to feel claws dig into his flesh.

What he got instead was a hand on his shoulder and a hiss in his ear. "Don't do zat, idiot."

"... Volk?"

"Ja, who else vould it be?" Volk replied, keeping her sights firmly on the Librarian. "Vhat are you doing here by yourself?"

"Well..." Bourbon gulped and lowered his arms, relieved to see his friend, and that the creature hadn't moved. "I wanted to come here. To find something."

"Let me guess: a souvenier?" He nodded. "Scheibe, Bourb, you came to ze most dangerous place on ze surface for a trinket? Sometimes I vonder how you're even alive... And now you've pissed Shit off to boot." Scuffing at the ground, Bourbon mumbled "Yeah, I may have gone a bit too far this-..." He paused and looked up. "Who's... Shit?"

"Ze Librarian. His name is Shit." If he hadn't been so afraid of dying, Bourbon might've laughed out loud.

"You /named/ this thing? Why?"

"Vell..." Volk replied. "It's vhat he says the most. He likes to copy."

"... Nope, sorry, you lost me. He likes to /what/?"

"Copy. Zey're very intelligent."

"It's an animal, Volk, it can't-"

"SHIT"

Oh.

Bourbon began shaking all over again. "Volk... Did that thing just...?"

"Indeed."

"And, ah... what do we do?"

"Ve back avay, slowly. Don't take your eyes off him."

"Wasn't planning on it. I meant how to we get /out/?"

"Hmm..." Volk quickly scanned the room, pretty certain that her friend would keep staring at Shit. "Ze door's out of action, so..." By this time, the two of them had backed up to the almost-glassless windows behind them. "... See you in ze courtyard!"

"Wha-AGH!" Bourbon's question cut off with a startled yell as Volk turned and gave him an almighty shove, sending him flying out of the window and plunging into the snow below. Head reeling, he layed there stunned and confused before Volk appeared again, dragging him to his feet and away from the Library.

\- Later, in Polis -

"So Bourb, I vas vondering... did you really only go to ze Library for a souvenier?"

"Yes..."

"Understandable, it has gut stuff hanging around, if you know vhere to look."

"... Am I off the hook then?"

"Nein, you're still an idiot. Drinks are on you tonight."

"You pushed me out of a window!"

"And saved your ass in ze process."

"... Point taken. Drinks are on me."


End file.
